


The Sex-Coffee

by DancerInTheMoonlight



Category: Glee
Genre: (but not the way you think), Alternate Universe, Attempt at Humor, Coffee, Domestic Fluff, Grinding, I Will Go Down With This Ship, M/M, POV Alternating, POV Blaine Anderson, POV Sebastian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 03:33:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19265071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DancerInTheMoonlight/pseuds/DancerInTheMoonlight
Summary: Blaine tries out something new. Sebastian is (not) amused.





	The Sex-Coffee

**Author's Note:**

> Re-posted but somewhat improved! Just so we're clear: the sex coffee is a real thing. Really, for real real. I somehow imagine a combination of all these would not really have aphrodisiac qualities… But I could totally be wrong. 
> 
>  
> 
> (Also, if it hasn't been cringe-worthy obvious- Blaine's wearing a Flash T-shirt.) 
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy! (Again.) :)

There were soft clinks coming from the kitchen, accompanied by occasional metallic swirl of their coffee grinder. The manual one, because Blaine insisted some things had to be done with one's own hands. Which was the reason why it was only ever Blaine's hands that made any use of it. 

Still, Blaine made a point of manually grinding his coffee, even on mornings Sebastian beat him to it in their fancy grinder-slash-coffee-maker-machine which Sebastian himself bought. Sometimes, if they managed to salvage a late afternoon from their hectic workdays, he would grind it for Sebastian, who drank coffee from sunrise to sundown; morning, afternoon and occasional evening-turned-to-night.

“But do you need that coffee grinder?” Sebastian had asked after they spent a couple of hours finding the perfect one out of the top ten Sebastian narrowed it down to. (A course of action he still didn’t see anything wrong with, because that particular investment had been a tough decision to be made, thank you very much. Choose the wrong one and you’re stuck with terrible, undrinkable excuse for a coffee. If Sebastian wanted that, he would have spent his life drinking ‘Americanos’.)

At some point, Blaine suggested that the person making it was also a factor but that didn’t stop Sebastian leaving with their new, magnificent grind-and-brew coffeemaker, which supposedly took control over every possible aspect of the delicate process to such an extent that Blaine dryly observed the only apparent downside was the fact it couldn’t bring you coffee in bed and kiss you good morning.

“Yes, I _need_ that one, in order to keep my sanity,” Blaine replied, running his hands over a compact grinder with a beautiful mahogany finish. It was smaller than an average electrical grinder, but quite bulkier than the majority of manual ones. “Look, it even has a dial.” He pointed at the size dial with a vast amount of settings, for seemingly any brew method you could think of. Sebastian sniffled.

“It can’t possibly achieve the same result every time.”

“It’s the performance’s consistency over an extended time-period that counts,” Blaine said, unconcerned.

“Are you talking dirty right now?”

“If it means we’re taking this wonderful baby home, then yes, I am,” Blaine replied, craning his neck for a sales assistant and Sebastian laughed.

“Does this mean you’ll grind my coffee?” he purred suggestively, lowering his voice.

“No, it means I’ll grind my own coffee. I swear, sometimes you seem capable of maiming people over a shot of espresso,” Blaine said, finally waving down a rare sales assistant who hadn’t yet been on the receiving end of Sebastian’s rampant coffee-machine quest and was therefore unprompted to find an excuse for avoiding eye-contact. “I’m not taking any chances.”

And so the manual grinder came home with its automated counterpart.

The rich smell of freshly ground coffee hung in the air as Blaine emptied the tiny container and pressed it into the coffee machine, which soon filled their apartment with its low-pitch buzz. Sebastian, who could do with a strong and long shot of coffee not just in the mornings but anytime, _anywhere_ , and who expected Blaine to return to the bedroom with some provisions and then linger there till at least noon, had half a mind to go back to bed. There was the pleasurable gurgle of liquid being poured into a cup. Biting his lip, Sebastian smiled and took a retreating step, expecting Blaine to emerge soon.

Blaine, however, failed to emerge, because the clinking was now back and harmonized with a low stream of unintelligible mutters. Curious, Sebastian peered into the kitchen.

The counter was filled with more ingredients than Sebastian usually associated with coffee-making. Blaine –wearing one of his favourite Sebastian’s t-shirts (one among a couple of geeky, superhero ones that Sebastian would never _ever_ admit owning) and not really much else, he took notice— was in the process of carefully measuring teaspoons of what Sebastian supposed to be sugar, but not mixing them into cups. Instead, there was a small measuring jug. He then produced a tablespoon and used it to add milk into the jug, muttering to himself the entire time. Sebastian wasn’t an enormous fan of milk in his coffee but for all Blaine’s meticulousness, the precaution of a tablespoon seemed like an exaggeration. It’s not like Sebastian was going to _die_ if some extra milk trickled into his cup.

The sole, uncommon occurrence for something to actually draw Sebastian’s attention away from those black briefs hugging that ass (just visible below the hemline when Blaine turned or leaned to reach out for something) _just right_ should have tipped him off.

But it became really weird when Blaine took a tablespoon of thick, musky fluid and proceeded adding it into the mix from a fairly decent height. It distracted Sebastian from announcing his presence as he drew nearer.

“Why are you putting **honey** into our coffee?” he asked instead, coming to stand behind Blaine.

Blaine jumped, startled, flailing his spoon and narrowly missing Sebastian’s face.

“ _Jesus_ – don’t you have footsteps or something? I could have poked your eye out,” he frowned. “You seriously freaked me out.”

“Sorry,” not really sorry at all, Sebastian placed a kiss to his cheek, “but your spoon distracted me. What are you doing?”

 “I- uh,” Blaine seemed to find the question unexpected. “Making coffee.” He definitely sounded caught in the act. The act of what, though, Sebastian couldn’t quite figure out.

“With honey?”

Blaine fumbled around the counter while Sebastian inspected the jug with interest. There were traces of colour in the otherwise dark substance. “That’s new,” he commented. His eyes swept briefly over the stuff sitting on the counter. There was cinnamon, with which Blaine usually laced his own cup. But there was also cocoa, which absolutely had no obvious reason to be there, and the unidentified powder Sebastian mistook for sugar. A few drops of clear white liquid were visible on the hard, dark surface of the counter.

“Wait a minute. . .” Sebastian looked struck by an epiphany. “Blaine, are you making _sex_ coffee?” he asked, face breaking into a disbelieving grin, like he just heard the most unexpected pun of all time. Blaine’s eyes widened comically as he bent over a cupboard, looking for something.

“I– _how do you even know about that?_ ” Blaine countered, retrieving a hand blender from a drawer, incredulous even though his face became the same flash of scarlet as the shirt was wearing. Sebastian wouldn’t be side-tracked.

“Oh my god, you _are_ ,” he exclaimed, sounding delighted.  

“What am I saying, of course you’d know about it, of all people,” Blaine mumbled pushing around Sebastian to get back to his concoction. He then carefully plunged the blender into the fragrant brew, which sloshed and swirled against the transparent plastic walls. “What?” he threw over the buzzing at Sebastian, who was engrossed in the whipping process. A mob of small bubbles steadily rose on the surface. Sebastian leaned in to get a better look.

“Is it supposed to be this frothy?”

Blaine just stared at him.

“What! Just because I heard of it, doesn’t mean I ever actually made any,” Sebastian pointed out. “Can I help?” His voice was filled with excitement. Sebastian only ever sounded child-level excited when it came to either wordplay or poetry (and Blaine learned this on complete accident, incidentally learning to not to spread the word on how he finds it truly endearing, _or else_ ), dancing (obviously, Blaine had _seen_ him at school), then of course, coffee, and – most recently – Blaine. Though the last one may or may not have been the case since the day they met.

Right now Blaine suspected he may have discovered a scienc-y side to Mr. Too-Cool-For-(Your)-School. Huh. Little scientist Sebastian, experiments blowing up in his face and his perfectly styled hair pointing cartoonishly in all directions, perfectly dishevelled. Picturing it, he bit down on a grin.

“Fine. Pass me the maca,” Blaine ordered, blender dripping with coffee.  Sebastian promptly handed him a small ceramic bowl which Blaine then tipped over the jug, blending the fine powder in. His eyes devotedly followed every single action.

Blaine rinsed the blender and poured the foamy liquid into two large cups. They watched them steam, only a little.

“So. I suppose we try it now?” Sebastian spoke first. Faced with the final product, he seemed to be at a loss, peering into the cups as if expecting a clue for the next step to form at their foamy surface.

“What, here?” Blaine frowned, as if there was potentially a lot at stake in consuming this particular brew anywhere outside the bedroom. “Yeah, okay, sure,” he grasped one cup and gave the other to Sebastian, who brought it up close to his face and inhaled. Blaine mirrored the movement.

“Smells. . . interesting?” he sounded curious but unsure. They eyed each other intensely, both on a dare to take a sip. The coffee was already becoming tepid.

“Why don’t we try it at the same time?” Sebastian suggested. They faced each other, cups at the ready. “On three.” Blaine nodded.

“One—”

Not breaking eye-contact, they raised their cups.

“Two—”

The sleek ceramic touched the lips’ tender flesh. Blaine opened his mouth in anticipation of the last count—

“You first.”

“Sebastian!”

“Okay, okay,” he made a face. “Say when.”

Blaine took a deep breath.

“ _Now_ ,” he said, and each took a mouthful.

Blaine, who was used to experimenting with all kinds of extravagant coffees, almost had it down, but Sebastian choked and made a beeline for the sink. They both ended up spitting it out with reverence.

There was nothing lovelier or more attractive than hawking and spewing brown liquid side by side, bent over the kitchen sink together on a lazy morning in. The on-line article that convinced Blaine to try this out got everything so _completely_ right.

“This is the absolute worst,” Sebastian groaned, gulping down some water. “I’d rather stay celibate.”

“Now, that’s something I don’t hear every day. Not from you, anyway,” retorted Blaine, pouring himself a glass and stifling a cough. “Like you need any prompting.”

“Exactly! What a **terrible** waste of coffee,” Sebastian sighed. “Besides, I was under the impression the sex was great. Last night wasn’t that long ago.” He looked mildly concerned.

“No! No, I mean, yes—” Blaine set down his glass and trailed his hands along Sebastian’s arms “—the sex was— _is_ wonderful.”

“I was hoping for something along the lines of ‘mind-blowing’, but ‘wonderful’ works too, I guess.”

Blaine just gave him one of those smiling looks, eyes alight with unspoken mirth of unreserved affection. It was the kind of look usually made Sebastian retaliate with kissing, because it was the only way he knew how to deal with such things, except that this time Blaine beat him to it. It was a sensual kiss, a sultriness of lips and tongues pressing, coiling together—

“I think maybe it’s working, after all,” Sebastian hummed against Blaine’s lips in a raspy voice. It made Blaine lean away to look at him. For all his declarations about considering celibacy now, Sebastian looked positively hungry.

“Oh? Want me to make anoth— _mmf_ ,” Blaine chortled but was silenced with another kiss, which took a while to break. Not that either one of them was particularly keen on trying. “I thought you came for coffee,” Blaine said after they managed to restore some distance between their faces. “Or at least to lecture about it,” he had the cheek to add.

“That is _not_ the way you kiss someone if you want them to focus their attention on coffee,” Sebastian bit back, leaving a trail of small wet kisses along Blaine’s jaw, hands wandering below the waist. Blaine was so ready to get lost in it. Even more so when Sebastian’s fingers grazed the _very_ strained front of his briefs. “But since you mentioned it. . .”

To his dismay, Sebastian extracted himself from the embrace and cleared his throat.

“Blaine. Allow me to make us some real coffee, and possibly some breakfast, so we can go back to bed and proceed to explore all possible correlations between these separate elements. I’ll even let you grind,” he said, ending the speech with a wink, the effect of which was dampened by an uncontainable grin splitting his face.

“Ha-ha,” Blaine retorted in a dry voice, even as he poured some fresh beans into the coffee grinder.


End file.
